


How to Remove Cherry Stains

by CKBookish



Category: Batman - Fandom, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Bruce Wayne sues the city for putting Dick in Juvie, Dick Grayson is Robin, Donuts, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I think I actually kinda wrote fluff guys!!!, Mentions of child neglect, bad social services
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25411636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: “Just one.  And don’t tell Alfred I let you have one before dinner.”Dick promised solemnly.Bruce squeezed his legs, joining the line.  After being in court for five hours listening to social workers and lawyers debate the legality of placing an-- at the time-- eight year old boy in a juvenile center, they deserved a treat.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne
Comments: 61
Kudos: 465





	How to Remove Cherry Stains

**Author's Note:**

> See guys I can write fluffy things... sometimes.
> 
> As always I love hearing from you!

How can I remove that blot, that cursed stain from your brain?

How can I show you?

Or rid you of this pain

How can I say?

with my tongue of lead and lips of thread

Words can not convey

…

If I’m silent can you still hear me?

* * *

“Bruce.” Dick whined as his legs smacked against the man’s chest. “It’s like the law to get donuts when you go past a bakery.”

Bruce rolled his eyes but turned towards the line of people outside the corner shop. Bruce hadn’t ever actually been inside before, but Alfred _had_ taken Dick to buy bread here a couple of times. Bruce thought after the day they’d had, one donut wouldn't really hurt the boy. 

“Just one. _And_ don’t tell Alfred I let you have one before dinner.” 

Dick promised solemnly. 

Bruce squeezed his legs, joining the line. After being in court for five hours listening to social workers and lawyers debate the legality of placing an-- at the time-- eight year old boy in a juvenile center, they deserved a treat. 

All and all, Dick had done much better during the affair than Bruce would have expected-- he still had nightmares about waking up in a cell alone. Dick sat with his head held high as he either glared at his old social worker or smiled shyly at a janitor that gave a statement to the judge. Bruce didn’t comment when Dick climbed into his lap following his statement or the fact that he had the sniffles afterwards. Bruce had just pulled him closer to his chest. 

They hadn’t made it past the courthouse door, before Bruce--eager to hear Dick laughing again-- shucked his jacket off and grabbed Dick from behind. He was rewarded when a peal of laughter fell from his lips as Bruce hefted him up and onto his shoulders. Now Bruce was content with Dick’s weight resting on his shoulders as his feet bumped gently against his chest. 

Bruce entered the bakery, letting the inconsequential chatter that Dick was making wash over him. Bruce was glad that the Children's court was sealed. He didn’t want to imagine what the case would be like if Dick had to deal with the vultureous press _along_ with the case. The sense of normalcy that they had just on the walk to the car helped Bruce clear his head of any anger or concern he had been weighted down by for the better part of the day. The sun was shining and the people they passed on the street barely gave them a glance. 

Alfred didn’t want to pursue the case for that reason. He argued it would do more damage retramaising Dick than it would help him heal. But Bruce had seen Dick as Robin where Alfred hadn’t. He knew the boy wouldn’t break. In fact he knew being silent would do more damage than it would do good. Dick Grayson-- even at the age of nine-- would rather shout out against injustice than let someone get hurt later because he failed to act. 

Bruce had filed over eighteen counts of child neglect against the city on Dick’s behalf. All of which he expected to win. 

Dick, still dressed in his best suit, sat with his elbows propped against Bruce’s head as they made their way to the counter. 

“What one do you want, Chum?” Bruce asked in just a slightly too cheery tone. He was ready to be home and drop his _persona_ all together. 

“I think,” Dick started then paused, taking in the wild display beneath him. “Well, you should order first then I’ll go.” 

Bruce snorted, and shifted Dick’s legs so that he could lean down and look at the counter better. After a moment Bruce asked after a plain glazed donut and squeezed Dick’s legs lightly. Honestly if Bruce let him they would be there all day just looking.

“You’re just getting a plan one?” Dick asked incredulously. “Where’s the fun in that? The risk?”

“ _Donuts_ shouldn’t be risky. Glaze is a classic. It’s my _favorite_.” Bruce poked Dick in the ribs lightly causing him to squirm on his shoulders. 

“It sounds boring and old.” Dick declared as he clamped his hands around Bruce’s eyes in order to force Bruce into ceasing his poking so that he could pry Dick’s hands away from his eyes. 

“I am _not_ old. I’m not even twenty five!” Bruce laughed as Dick slumped so that his head rested on Bruce’s. 

“I’ll have a cherry filled donut please!” Dick finally declared after another moment of consideration. 

Bruce noted he sounded much happier than he had been after leaving the courthouse. Dick still perched above him, sat munching on his large donut as they continued for the car. When Bruce polished off his donut less than a block from the bakery, Dick reached down and let him have a bite of his. Which Bruce had to admit tasted nice, _even if_ he preferred the standard glazed. 

Bruce knew Alfred would have a fit when they got home and saw the state of Bruce’s shirt, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care as bits of cherry jelly dropped down onto his chest and shoulders. Dick was chatting animatedly from atop his shoulders, wrinkling the already ruined material as he turned this way and that to point out different things on the street that caught his eye.

“B?” Dick asked after offering Bruce a third bite.

“Yeah?” Bruce said thickly through the donut.

“Do you…” He trailed off for a moment. “Do you think they’ll rule in our favor?”

Bruce’s heart lurched. He thought he had reassured Dick enough not to doubt their standing in the case. Dick had seemed so unconcerned about the whole thing. Bruce suddenly wondered how much Dick held beneath the surface. How much was hidden with that bright grin? “Dick, we’ve got this case in the bag.”

A tension that Bruce hadn’t even noticed until it was gone eased from the boy’s body. 

“Harvey’s the best and even he as DA couldn’t get this dismissed-- not that we can repeat that.” Bruce added as an afterthought. It was bad enough, Harvey had looked over the case for him. He didn’t want to have anyone try and get it dismissed because of his personal relationship with the city’s DA. 

“I won’t tell anyone about Uncle Harvey looking at it.” Dick said quietly. “Bruce?”

Bruce steeled himself. “Yeah, Chum?”

“Will they take me back if we lose?” 

The question-- despite being said near his ears-- was so quiet Bruce wondered for a moment if it had been asked at all. 

“ _No_ .” The word was said with as much conviction as he contained. “I’m not letting you _ever_ go back there. Even if I have to move to the Himalayas or--” Bruce cast about for a place far enough to show the sentiment he felt. Why were words so hard?

“We could just go to that island you bought.” Dick offered after Bruce was silent for a moment too long to be comfortable. 

“Or that island.” Bruce agreed gratefully. Bruce patted Dick’s knee in silent thanks for understanding his inability to express himself. “But I didn’t _buy_ it. I won it in a game of cards.” Bruce pouted slightly.

Dick leaned forward so that his face was in front of Bruce’s. Dick hung over him upside down holding his donut aloft. “You only won ‘cause everyone else was drunk.”

Bruce snorted, “It’s not my fault they can’t hold their liquor.”

“Not everyone has alcohol endurance training, B.” Dick said sagely as jam fell from the center of his donut onto Bruce’s shirt.

“No, and don’t get any ideas _mister_ . You’re not touching that stuff until you're old. I mean at least _thirty_.”

“Thirty!” Dick shoved the rest of the donut into his mouth still talking. “I don’t even want to try it. It's smelly, _and--”_ Dick said as if proving his point. _“_ I can have apple juice.”

“I’ll remind you of that when you turn fifteen.” Bruce said flicking off the clump of jam that had joined the littering of stains already gathered across his chest. 

It wasn’t until they reached the car that Bruce put Dick’s feet back on solid ground. When Dick turned his back to him, Bruce leaned forward to shake crumbs from his hair. His shirt was stained and rumpled terribly. Bruce winced thinking about the icy look he was bound to receive when he walked through the door of the manor. 

“B?” Dick’s voice sounded serious again. He was shuffling his feet with one hand on the handle of the door to the backseat. _Normally_ he would tumble in and quickly buckle himself into his booster seat. 

“Yeah, Chum?” Bruce bent down so that their eyes were level. Dick looked much older than nine. His eyes held an odd sort of wisdom that Bruce could only remember seeing as a child looking in the mirror. Eyes that had seen too much pain. That’s why they were doing this. Bruce reminded himself, so that other kids wouldn’t have that same look in their eyes too. 

“I.. Just--” Dick’s face flushed redder than the jelly still on the corner of his mouth. “Thanks.” 

Bruce opened his mouth to respond but was cut off by a quick movement before he could so much as utter a word.

Dick leaned forward and moved so quickly, that Bruce didn’t understand what had happened until Dick was already disappearing inside the back of the car. Bruce stood up and-- making sure Dick couldn’t see-- reached up and touched his cheek. His fingers came away sticky with cherry jam. Bruce smiled. Maybe cherry donuts were his favorite kind after all.


End file.
